


DAO: The Coming of a Hero

by Dreaming18



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-06-05 17:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming18/pseuds/Dreaming18
Summary: When the rebellious, scandalous younger son of the noble house of Cousland is forced into a situation beyond his control, he must learn to put his own desires aside for the sake of Ferelden and possibly all of Thedas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Starts off a few weeks before the origin at the beginning of the game, just so I could set the story a bit.  
> This will be a retelling with my own personal spin.

Tristan Cousland wiped the sweat-drenched hair from his forehead as he collapsed onto the bed beneath him. The man he'd so graciously paid to relieve his desires was panting heavily along with him.

"That was definitely worth your price," Tristan said as the high of his climax faded.

"I'm glad to have pleased you, my lord," spoke the dark-haired man. "You seem to frequent this establishment quite often. Is the life of a noble not to your liking?" and Tristan chuckled as the man's hand drifted down towards his groin.

"Something like that," he said. The man grabbed his cock and started to gently stroke it.

"I understand the demands the title of noble places on a man, especially a man more inclined to other desires," and he kissed Tristan's neck, teasing him.

"You think you can take me again?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out," the man replied, swinging his leg over to the other side of Trista, climbing on top.

Just as things were about to begin, the door to the room burst open and the man jumped off him in shock. Two men walked through, one in heavy armour and the other in normal attire. Tristan groaned when he saw who they were.

"Out whore!" shouted the man in armour.

"This is my room," the man protested.

"Out!" the armoured man screamed again. The man gathered up his clothes and left the room.

Tristan sat up, pulling the flimsy sheet over the bottom half of his body. Standing before him was his father Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever and Ser Gilmore, one of his family's senior knights. He gave the men a cocky smile, which his father did not find amusing. Tristan didn't care.

"What?" he said, slouching on the bed.

"What? Is that all you have to say?" Bryce said. "You've been gone for three days. Your mother and I have been worried sick."

"Oh please, I'm not a child you need to worry over," Tristan said.

"Well, you sure do act like one. I do wish you weren't so maker damned predictable sometimes Tristan. These days your either brawling in the streets, drinking yourself into a stupor at some tavern or bedding the latest pretty thing that happens to walk by," he said.

"I happen to like the pretty things, father. Especially when I can pay for them," he laughed, unwilling to move from the bed.

Bryce let out an exasperated sigh. He feared his younger son would drive him to an early grave. Thank goodness Fergus was more responsible.

 He and his wife have learned to deal with their younger sons frequent disappearances but this was getting tiresome. Three days with no word was long enough.

"Get up now and put your damned clothes on," he said, storming out of the room.

Tristan sighed as Ser Gilmore turned to give the man some privacy while he dressed.

"You really shouldn't push your father like this my lord. He loves you but your behaviour makes him worry," he said.

"Don't worry I already know how much of a disappointment I am to my parents. My mother never stops going on about giving her some bloody grandchildren. They've known for years who I am and while father tolerates it I can tell he thinks I'm being selfish, Fergus too. 'We Cousland's always do our duty first son' he keeps telling me."

"I know you wish for another life my lord but you are called to a higher purpose, your name demands it," Gilmore said.

Tristan didn't bother with a reply. He was tired of having the same conversation over and over again. Pulling his leather jacket and boots on, he followed Ser Gilmore out of the brothel to where his father was waiting with some horses.

"Good. Now, see if you can muster some sort of decency before we get home to your mother. She will tear your ears off if you don't," Bryce warned him.

Tristan sighed and climbed atop one of the horses. They immediately set off for Castle Cousland.

* * *

  
By the time they arrived back, it was dark. Father and son had barely spoken a word to each other. As the gates of Castle Cousland closed behind them two stable boys appeared to take care of the horses. Tristan had barely gotten off his horse when he noticed the glowering face of his mother hovering towards him. He immediately turned and made a dash for the servant's entrance.

"Don't you walk away from me my boy," she said, passing her husband and Ser Gilmore on the way. The two left her to it. Tristan was on his own here. "Tristan!"

Tristan stopped and turned. There were guards and servants in their vicinity, already poised to watch the Teyrna berate her son again. He was so glad he provided a constant source of entertainment for the staff.

"Mother," he said forcing a smile.

"Don't mother me. How dare you run off for three days without telling anyone where you're going. You could've been dead for all we knew."

"Now really mother, I'm a trained fighter who's rather skilled with a bow, if I might add. I'm not going to die so easily," he said, noting that regardless of his training, he'd actually taken no weapons with him when he'd left.

"There it is, your bloody arrogance. You're not invincible Tristan. Do you have no care for your family and how we would feel should something happen to you?"

"Of course I care mother. But as I keep telling father, I'm not a child. I can go wherever I please whenever I like. I don't need your permission. Oh and I certainly don't need you setting me up with some poor Bann's daughter either. You know where my interests lie," he said.

"I knew that's why you left. The amount of grovelling I had to do to her father after you wasted her time by disappearing," she said, folding her arms.

"No, you wasted her time by inviting her here in the first place. I've told you I'm not marrying a woman I can never love, especially if it's arranged," he said, turning quickly on his heels and walking away.

"You will be the death of me one day Tristan," his mother called out. Tristan ignored her and continued on his way.

At least there was one person who was happy to see him, well not a person but Tristan considers his loyal Mabari, Master better than most people sometimes. The barking of his dog filled his ears as he came bounding around the corner of the stone corridor. Tristan smiled and opened his arms wide. The dog came over and pounced on top of him, licking his face.

"Good boy Master, who's a good boy," he said, rubbing behind his dog's ears. Master barked in acknowledgement. Tristan gently pushed the dog away so he could get up.

"Oh if it isn't my infamous brother," spoke the voice of Tristan's older brother, Fergus. "I see you finally decided to grace us with your presence."

Tristan looked up to see his brother standing tall and looking rather unimpressed. His faithful dog at his side, he approached him cautiously.

"Oh," Tristan grimaced. "I love you too Fergus."

"Is uncle Tristan back?" and the two men looked to see Oren, Fergus's young son, come running over to them.

"Oren will you please stop running off!" shouted his mother Oriana, Tristan's sister-in-law and Fergus's wife. She approached too, trailing behind her son.

"Uncle Tristan!" Oren said, flinging his arms around the young man's waist.

"Hello, Oren. I hope you're not wearing your poor mother out?" Tristan said, ruffling his nephew's hair. He may be the bane of his family's existence, but Tristan was quite fond of his nephew.

"Oh no, I'm fine really," said Oriana, panting heavily and leaning against Fergus's shoulder.

"Will you finally teach me how to use a sword uncle Tristan? You promised," he said.

"You did what?" Oriana wondered, a slight scowl appearing on her face.

"Look in my defence I said he should ask you first." Tristan laughed nervously.

"Funny, swords aren't really your thing are they brother?" Fergus said, smirking.

"They most certainly are," Tristan sniggered. The opportunity to wind up his brother had been too tempting. However, it was his sister-in-law that slapped him across the face. Tristan winced. Maker, that woman packed a punch.

"Really Tristan," she scowled. She grabbed Oren's hand and dragged him away, much to the young boy's protests.

"But I want to learn how to use a sword," he complained in the distance.

"You deserved that brother. Really, in front of your own nephew too."

"I'm sorry Fergus but you walked right into that one," he laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

"You really never take anything seriously do you?" Fergus scowled, shaking his head.

Tristan was about to reply when he noticed Nan, the cook, making her way towards them barking at someone behind her.

"Now I don't have time to give you a tour of the castle, so you'll just have to find your way around as you work and...you!" she said stopping and coming over to Tristan. "If your bloody mongrel gets into my kitchen one last time I will quit," she said and Master wined beside him.

"Hey don't call him a mongrel. You hurt his feelings," Tristan said, patting the top of his dogs head. Nan continued to lecture him but Tristan was too busy looking at the young elven man standing behind her. 

He was slender, but not too skinny and his short dark hair was full of curly locks. Tristan smiled at him and the man smiled back before promptly looking away.

"Are you listening to me?" exclaimed Nan, drawing Tristan out of his trance.

"Yes, I will make sure he doesn't go into your kitchen Nan. You have my word."

Fergus tutted. He didn't believe that for a second. Nan scoffed and walked off, beckoning the elven man to follow her. Fergus noticed how his brother's eyes seemed to linger on the elven man as they left.

"Who is that? New kitchen assistant for Nan?" Tristan wondered, turning to his brother.

"No," Fergus said, firmly.

"No what?" Tristan said like he had no idea what his brother was talking about.

"You know what. You know you have a certain reputation among the servants' brother, if not all of the Ferelden nobility. You need to stop bedding every male servant that walks through the door, especially since the room where my family sleeps, including your nephew," he lingered on those words. "is directly opposite and we can hear everything that goes on," he said.

"Come on I don't bed every male servant. Not all of them are like me," Tristan said.

"That's not the point. I just wish you'd show a bit of discretion sometimes and not flaunt your behaviour to the entirety of Thedas," and with that Fergus walked off, leaving Tristan standing there with Master.

He shook his head and sighed. He beckoned for Master to follow as he continued on to his room. 

Fergus has never approved of his relations with men, especially out in the open. Him liking men wasn't the problem, it was the fact that he couldn't be discreet about it for the sake of the family. In the business of nobility alliances and marriages are important, as are producing heirs and carrying on the family bloodline. When his family first discovered his preference for men, it had been a tense few days.

* * *

Once he'd reached his room, Master settled on his bed and Tristan called for one of the servants to make up a bath for him. He was sure he stank after being away for three days and besides his many faults, he still upheld his personal hygiene.

"But my lord supper will be in less than an hour and I'm sure your father expects you to be there," said the bumbling manservant.

"Then you have my permission to tell my father they can eat without me until I have washed, now if you would so kindly..." and the man nodded.

Tristan was glad to free his body from the clothes and relax in the warm water of the bath for a while. He felt his aching muscles loosen and rested his eyes, trying to resist the urge to fall asleep. The manservant he'd sent to fetch him some fresh clothes seemed to be taking his sweet time.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Finally," Tristan said. "Come in," he said standing up and getting out of the bath.

However, the door opened before Tristan managed to grab the towel beside the tub. Whoever it was just got a full view of Tristan's backside and lean muscular back.

"Oh my lord I'm so sorry I should've waited," and Tristan grabbed the towel, but not before seeing that the elven servant from before was the one standing behind him. 

Smiling, he placed the towel around his groin (loosely) and got out of the tub, dripping water on the stone floor.

"No matter. I should've been quicker," Tristan teased. "What's a kitchen servant doing bringing me my clothes anyway?"

"Your manservant had to attend to other duties and he couldn't find any other available male servant to bring you your clothes my lord," the man said, trying to avoid looking at Tristan's practically naked body.

Tristan was well aware he had a very desirable body to both men and women alike - a fact he liked to exploit. Years of combat training was responsible for that.

 He walked towards the man slowly.

"What's your name?"

"Solan my lord," he said, shying away. 

"Well Solan, thank you for bringing me my clothes," he said, now inches away from the shorter elven man.

 Solan handed him the clothes, turning to face him now. He could see the lust in the young lord's eyes and hoped he wasn't blushing.

"My lord, is there something else you wish of me?" and the corner of Tristan's mouth rose slightly.

"Please tell me if I'm being presumptuous, but would you like to join me in my room tonight?" he said, a real confidence in him.

"My lord I'm not sure that would be appropriate. You are the son of the Teyrn and I'm an elven servant," he said, though Tristan could tell he wanted it.

"Surely you must've heard the other servants talking about me already. I don't exactly care about what's appropriate," he said, whispering into Solan's ear. "Regardless, my door will be open," and he stepped away, turning around to get dressed. "Join me if you want to have some fun," he smirked, dropping the towel.

Solan blushed before hurrying out of the room and closing the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always imagined Tristan as mid-to late twenties.  
> Just to help people get a clearer picture.

For Tristan, the evening had been a bore, which is nothing he's not used too. He hadn't missed much of dinner, because despite what he'd told his manservant, they'd been willing to wait for him. The entire meal he'd sat there and listened while his father and Fergus spoke about an upcoming tourney and his mother spoke to Oriana about a party she's planning and how 'she must come and try on the gowns they make in Denerim'. The only one that seemed interested in talking to him was young Oren, but his conversation always revolved around fighting and it got kind of tiresome. He hated feeling like he lacked anything in common with his family. The only thing that was getting him through the evening was knowing that someone could be joining him in his bed tonight. 

"So, how about it brother?" Fergus said, dragging Tristan away from the vase he was staring at.

"Oh what?" he said.

"It's been a while since we sparred together. Want to refresh those skills of yours?"

"Can I watch?" begged Oren before Tristan could speak.

"I don't think that's a good idea Oren. Your uncle doesn't like it when someone sees me drop him on his ass," Fergus laughed.

"That was one time Fergus," Tristan reminded him. "And you cheated."

"No I think I was just better than you," Fergus said, raising an eyebrow.

"Boys, I'm sure the two of you need not argue about it now. Save your differences for tomorrow's fight," Bryce chuckled.

"Sure, but be prepared to lose brother," Tristan said, finishing his wine.

"Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I wasn't given a daughter. The two of you are as childish as ever," said their mother. "I blame you, Bryce."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Bryce said. "You married me, my love. Besides, you know our boys have their own minds," and Tristan avoided looking at his father. He knew that was aimed at him more than Fergus.

"Well as interesting as this evening has been," said Tristan, getting up from the table. "I think I'm going to retire to my room."

"Go, get your rest brother. You'll need all that energy before you fight me," he laughed, annoying Tristan with his cockiness.

As Tristan walked away, he could've sworn he heard Oren ask once again if he could watch.

* * *

Tristan was glad to get to his room and free himself of the tight, leather clothing he was required to wear in front of his family. Master sat in the corner of his room, asleep and snoring like an old man. Tristan loved his dog but having him in the room while he had sex was nothing short of unnerving. Ousting the hound from his room and ordering him to sleep outside, Tristan returned, leaving the door slightly ajar. A few minutes after, he heard the wooden door creak open. 

He grinned with pleasure. He knew that elf wanted him. He turned to see Solan standing there, looking rather unsure of himself.

"Just so you know my lord, I still think this is highly inappropriate," he said.

"Come on if you really believed that, you wouldn't be here," Tristan smirked. He stepped closer to the elf and didn't hesitate to kiss him, hard.

When he pulled away he noticed how flustered the elf looked. It was very cute and only proceeded to turn Tristan on more. This time, Solan chose to kiss him back and run his slender hands over Tristan's hard shoulders, forcing his loose cotton shirt to drop to the floor. Tristan broke the kiss and moved down to kiss his partner's neck teasingly. The elf moaned in his ear as Tristan slipped a hand down his trousers to feel the hardening rod beneath.

"You really want this don't you?" he sniggered as Solan traced his hands down Tristan's chest to cup his own member. He made quick work of his breaches, revealing Tristan's hard erection.

Bending down to rest his knees on the hard stone floor, Solan needed no direction when it came to what to do next. He took Tristan's cock into his mouth, grabbing his rear to push him in deeper.

"Fuck!" Tristan cried, grabbing a tuft of Solan's hair. Damn, he was good.

 He tilted his head down to watch as his cock slid in and out of the elf's mouth at varying paces. When he felt his arousal deepen he begun to thrust it in deeper, languishing in the feel of Solan's slippery mouth caressing every wet inch. Feeling he'd be unable to resist coming if they continued like this, Tristan yanked the elf off his cock before it was too late. There was no way he was going to allow this elf to make him come so easily.

Bringing Solan to his feet, he yanked the clothes off of him, tossing them aside with an impatient vigour. Grabbing his legs, Tristan lifted Solan into his arms, planting a fierce kiss on his neck as he carried him over to the bed. Tossing the smaller man down, he flipped him over onto his stomach and begun to slide his cock between the man's ass. Moaning with pleasure Solan, lifted his ass up, eager to feel Tristan's swollen member inside him. Tristan happily obliged, gently pushing the tip in until he felt Solan's tight hole close around him. He thrust the rest of his length in, making Solan cry out.

Tristan bent down, pinning Solan to the bed with his left arm across the top of his back. His pants and grunts filled Solan's ear with every powerful thrust he made. Solan's muffled moans filled the room as Tristan continued to pound into him. Getting to his knees he grabbed the elf's hips bringing him back onto his cock in time with his thrusts. Solan propped himself up with one arm, reaching the other hand down to work his acing cock.

Tristan could feel his climax approaching like the elf was squeezing it out of him. He moved his hands around Solan's waist holding him as he quickened his thrusts, getting nearer. He kissed his sweaty back and with a sharp cry he came, pumping into the elf as he too cried out in pleasure, his own climax reached.

When Tristan was done the two men remained in their current position, panting heavily. Eventually, Tristan climbed off of him, pulling out and collapsing onto the bed. Solan rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

"Shall I go now, my lord? Someone will have noticed I'm missing," he said.

"No, you can stay," Tristan said through deep gasps of air. "My beds more comfortable than whatever rock they have you sleeping on, I'm sure," he said. "Feel free to make the most of it," and he turned over to the other side to put the candle out beside his bed.

"Should I expect to be called to your room again?" he wondered and Tristan responded light-heartedly.

"Well, if you want to, I don't see why I should refuse," and with that he blew on the candle, plunging them into darkness. 

* * *

When Tristan woke the next morning, Solan was gone. He'd expected as much. The kitchen staff are usually up early, preparing breakfast and getting fresh produce in. If he hadn't been there he would've gotten into trouble. Still, he smiled when he thought back to the fun they'd had last night. Then that smile turned right upside down when he remembered he'd promised to spar Fergus today. Shit, he thought.

Around midday, he met his brother and the rest of the family in the training grounds at the back of the castle. He'd brought Master with him to keep the poor dog entertained and stop him from getting into Nan's kitchen. He did like to watch a good fight though and sat near Oren who patted his head.

"Ah, brother there you are. I was wondering when you'd show up," Fergus said, that cocky grin already on his face. Tristan was glad for the opportunity to wipe it off of him.

Fergus was already dressed in full armour. His squire handed him his sword and shield; the Cousland crest embedded on it.

"I only wanted to give you more time to prepare for your impending defeat Fergus," Tristan said, allowing two squires to help him into his less heavy, more practical armour.

"Is that right?" his brother laughed.

"Now, I know this will be hard, but please try not to kill each other," said Bryce, standing outside the fighting arena.

"And keep it civil, especially in front of Oren," said Eleanor, gesturing to her excited grandson.

"Of course mother," Tristan said after the squires had finished fastening his armour.

As he turned around to grab his two Silverite crafted daggers, he noticed Solan arriving with Nan, carrying food.

"Ah thank you for bringing some refreshments Nan," said Eleanor. "Just set them down on the table," she said, gesturing to the one that had been set up beside her.

"Yes your ladyship," said Nan, prompting Solan to put the food down, but he'd been distracted by Tristan's suggestive stares and almost dropped the tray of food. 

Nan berated him before the two left and Tristan gave him a wink as they walked away.

"Please tell me you didn't?" spoke Fergus, noticing the seemingly silent flirting between the two.

"I didn't," Tristan teased.

"For fuck's sake Tristan. You can't keep it in your bloody pants for one night can you?"

"What can I do?" he said, grabbing his daggers firmly and turning to face his brother.

"You can act your age for once!" he said swinging his sword toward Tristan.

Tristan crossed his daggers, blocking the attack and landing a swift kick to Fergus's stomach. After he'd recovered, Tristan grinned at him. He came forward again trying to swipe at Tristan's stomach, but the talented rogue stepped back and spun around, dodging the attack before landing a hit to his brother's shoulder with the pommel of his dagger. He went for Fergus this time swinging both his daggers towards him but Fergus blocked with his shield and came around to attack him again. Tristan just managed to dodge the swipe. 

The clang of metal filled the area as their weapons clashed in frenzied attacks. Fergus almost got him a few times, but he was too quick on his feet. Tristan could tell his brother was getting agitated. He went for Tristan's head this time and instead of blocking it with his daggers he ducked and spun around with his left leg, taking Fergus's out from beneath him and knocking him to the ground. Before Fergus could get up Tristan pounced on him and crossed his daggers at his throat.

"I believe I win brother," Tristan said, getting up off of him. Master barked in the background.

"Wow, that was so good!" gasped Oren. "I can't wait until I'm old enough to fight."

"Not if I have my way," said Oriana, but Oren didn't seem to hear. 

Tristan held out a hand to help Fergus up and his brother begrudgingly took it. Tristan slapped his brother on the shoulder, playfully.

"Don't look so disappointed Fergus," he laughed, noticing the scowl forming on his brother's face. "You know I've always been quicker than you."

"Whatever. I want a rematch first thing tomorrow," he said, giving one of the squires his weapons. Tristan swore he heard his father laughing in the background.

"Are you sure about that brother? Don't want to lose twice in front of your son do you?"

"Why you son of a-"

"Fergus!" Eleanor said, standing up from the table before he could finish that sentence.

Fergus wiped the sweat dripping from his nose and went to join his family. As they retreated back into the castle with his mother and Master, Bryce approached his younger son.

"You fought well pup," he said, using the nickname he'd given to his son. He liked to use it on occasion to torment him. 

"I really wish you wouldn't call me that you know. I'm not a boy anymore," Tristan said, though he was grateful for his father's praise. He didn't get it often.

"So you keep reminding me," Bryce sighed, exasperated. "I'm surprised though. I thought you'd used up all your vigour on whoever was in your bed last night."

"Oh, you heard that?"

"Well it's not like you keep your affairs secret my boy," he said, folding his arms and raising his eyebrows. "You can't go on with this behaviour forever. You'll need to settle down eventually," he said.

"What? And marry one of the oh so many noble girls mother insists on picking out for me? I don't think so," and Tristan couldn't help but think back to a time when he'd had someone to settle down with. But they'd been taken from him. 

Tristan handed his weapons to a squire and waited while he unfastened his armour. "Girls are great, they can make grown men fall beneath them, but they're not for me," he said, feeling less heavy now that his armour was off. Before he left, he gave his father one last look and said, "You both know who I am. I'd hoped you would've accepted it by now," and before Bryce had a chance to respond, he walked off.

As he made his way back inside the castle, he couldn't stop the memories of three years prior filling his mind.

* * *

3 years ago

Castle Cousland...

Tristan was glad his father had asked him to accompany him down to the Blacksmiths quarters that day. He'd wanted to discuss new weapons for the soldiers. But it's not learning about how to keep an army that interested him. No, he was glad because it would give him a chance to see Owen, his lover and the assistant blacksmith. Owen sported short blonde hair and golden brown eyes and had come from the Free Marches, a group of city-states north of Ferelden and across the sea.

Their relationship had started as friends, then progressed into something more, something no one knew about besides them. As he stood behind his father, listening to him discuss business with the blacksmith, Tristan spotted Owen in the workshop, working. He slowly drifted away, pretending to look at some of the newly crafted weapons. His father barely took any notice and only offered him a quick glance.

Going further in and checking that no one would see him, Tristan snuck up behind him and smacked him on the ass. Owen jumped in surprise as he turned around. Tristan planted a kiss to his lips before the man could speak and pushed him up against the wooden wall.

"We shouldn't be doing this here Tristan," he said, as Tristan trailed kisses along his neck. "What if your father sees us?"

"Ssh, don't spoil the fun Owen," Tristan moaned, pushing his hips up against the man.

"I'm only thinking of you, oh noble son of the Teyrn," he said, smiling slightly. "You said you didn't want your family finding out, that they have no idea you like other men."

Tristan sighed and rested his forehead on Owen's shoulder. Oh, how he hated being the son of a Teyrn. They all expected something from him and he hated having to hide who he was because of it. Owen, seeing his angst, lifted Tristan's face to his to look him in the eyes. He kissed him softly and placed his other hand on his waist, drawing him closer.

"I wish we could acknowledge our relationship too, but we have to be careful for now," Owen said.

"I know. I just hate all this sneaking around. Don't get me wrong, I love a risk as much as the next man but I love you Owen and I don't want to hide it behind closed doors," he said, stepping away.

"One day we won't have to." Owen smiled and gave him a quick kiss. Tristan wasn't so sure. "Now go before your father or someone else sees you consorting with a craftsman my lord," he teased.

Tristan sniggered but left Own to his work. He would see him later anyway. They always found time to spend the night together in the stables. It was too much of a risk bringing Owen up to his room. 

* * *

Present...           

Tristan hated recalling memories of his old lover; probably his first and only real love. The pain of his loss had never truly disappeared despite his attempts to numb it over the last three years with drink and sex. Still, he needed to do something, anything to stop seeing the image of Owen in his head. As he walked through the corridor and past the kitchen, he spotted Solan up ahead. Quickening his pace, he grabbed the elf by the arm and pushed him into the broom cupboard next to him.

"My lord is something wrong?" he said, a little surprised.

"No, I just...I need..." but he couldn't get his words out. He turned the elf around and pushed him up against the wall. He pushed down his trousers, freeing his cock before doing the same with Solan. "I need you," he managed to say before shoving his cock into Solan so hard, the elf cried out. "Sorry," he said.

"It's ok, you can keep going," Solan said, biting his sleeve as Tristan continued to fuck him. 

He knew this wasn't going to work, he could never forget Owen's face. But he'd be damned if he didn't try to. 


	3. Chapter 3

Tristan was woken early by the sound of someone moving about. As he stirred and opened his eyes he saw that it was just Solan, getting dressed after another night in the young lords bed. He noticed Tristan hazily staring at him.

"I'm not doing this again," he said, his words filled with spite.

"Why's that?" Tristan asked.

"You clearly have some problems and I'm tired of you fucking me to try and deal with them," he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

"That's not what you were saying last night," he sniggered, remembering the elf practically begging for his cock.

"You are just what they all say you are," Solan said, defiant. "I thought all the servants were wrong about you," he said.

"Let me guess, they weren't?"

"No. Here was stupid old me thinking you might actually treat an elf as a person for once, that you weren't like all the other human nobles. But I've been with you for over a week now and I can see I'm just like a pet to you, someone to warm your bed at night. I'm not going to let myself be treated like that," and he walked over to the door, about to leave. "I'm not a toy you can use," and with that he left, slamming the door without a care for who may hear.

Tristan sighed and rolled over on the bed. He knew the elf had a point. His kind are often treated like pieces of exotic fruit all over Thedas. This is especially true for the city elves; not so much the forest dwelling Dalish. Had he been using Solan? Probably, but it wasn't because he was an elf. No, there was another reason for it all, something he's unwilling to tell anyone.

* * *

3 years ago...

"Tristan!" Owen cried, gasping as Tristan thrust into him again and again. 

He wrapped his legs around his waist, pulling him close. Tristan moaned, getting close. With one last powerful thrust, he came, Owen squeezing his waist with his legs. Tristan collapsed on top of him, panting and dripping with sweat. Owen turned his face to kiss him.

After waiting for his family to retire for the night, he'd snuck out of his room to meet Owen in the stables. It was the only part of the castle where they were afforded some privacy, well apart from the horses in the cubicles beside them. Tristan rolled off of Owen and his lover pulled a rough blanket over them. Fire torches lit up their end of the stable and they lay on a blanket they'd used to cover the hay and wood beneath. As their breathing returned to normal, Owen grabbed Tristan's hand and pulled it up to his mouth to kiss it.

"I wish we could run away sometimes," Tristan said. "Escape back to your home and run some old farm," he laughed.

"You'd get bored," Owen said. "You're a fighter, a man of action. The life of a domesticated farmer isn't for you."

"I know, but at least I'd be with you. We'd be free. I could live with anything if you were by my side," and he rolled over, kissing Owen.

"You'd never just leave your family like that," Owen said and Tristan sighed.

"It wouldn't be so hard. They'd never accept me and let me be who I am. Nobility always does their duty first."

"Sometimes I wonder if you give your family too little credit. Your father is a good Teyrn and a good man, he cares about his people. Your mother is also kind and good-hearted," Owen said. Tristan tutted.

"Yeah, you should see her behind closed doors. She seems to take joy in berating me, Fergus and father every chance she gets," Tristan said.

"I'm sure your brother would understand too. Fergus seems very open-minded, even for a noble."

"I don't know, maybe your right. Maybe I'm worried about losing you if they find out. I don't want to hide, but I don't want to take the chance either," Tristan said. He always found it so easy to talk with Owen.

"Hence the 'live on an old farm' scenario," Owen laughed, cupping Tristan's cheek and lightly stroking it with his thumb.

"I can't have it both ways. In the end, I'm always going to choose you," and they kissed before falling asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

Present...

Saddened by the memory, Tristan got up instead of going back to sleep. He dressed in some light armour and went to the armoury to grab his bow and some arrows. Ignoring the many 'you're up early my lord' from guards and servants, Tristan went out to the training grounds. The morning light was peaceful and calm, the opposite of Tristan's mood.

He stood in front of the targets made for shooting practice and grabbed an arrow from the pouch on his back. He shot at one of the targets, hitting it dead centre. He shot another one and another one, hitting the target around the initial arrow. He couldn't quite picture who he was imagining as the true target. Maybe it was himself, the stupid, foolish image of himself. The Tristan that had lost the only person he'd ever loved because he'd been unable to fight for him.

He yelled as he shot another arrow and it pierced the target with heavy force. He lowered the bow and bowed his head, trying to fight the pain.

"I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of one of those arrows," spoke a voice behind Tristan.

He turned around to see Brother Aldous standing there. He was the castle historian and tutor. A tall, elderly man with greying hair and a long beard, he'd schooled both Fergus and Tristan when they were boys.

"Well, those on the receiving end don't usually have much to say about it," Tristan said.

"I must say, It's nice to see you up early my boy. Is something amiss?" he wondered.

"No, just couldn't be bothered going back to sleep," Tristan said. Aldous nodded before approaching, hands behind his back.

"My boy, you spent enough time in my presence for me to know when you're lying. Yes, you were a rather mischievous young boy. I fear you have not grown out of it with age," Aldous chuckled.

"To the bane of my family I fear," Tristan said, gathering up his bow again and shooting at another target.

"Oh of course but I believe it's just part of who you are. Your charm, as some would say."

"It hasn't always worked in my favour, especially when I was caught with..." but Tristan stopped himself. 

He found it hard to say Owen's name sometimes, it was too painful. But Aldous seemed to know what he was talking about. Everyone in the castle knew about his affair with the old blacksmith assistant.

"Ah, the young blacksmith boy. I recall," Aldous nodded, watching as Tristan shot more arrows.

"If I hadn't had been so weak," and he shot another arrow. "So stupid and reckless, he would still be here, with me," and he said this while trying to fight back tears. "If I hadn't been born a damn noble it wouldn't have even mattered," he said.

"Maybe not, but your father was only thinking of you when he sent that boy back to the Free Marches. You can't blame him for putting your reputation first," Aldous said, wincing as Tristan shot another arrow and it made a whizzing sound through the air.

"As if I give a fuck about my reputation. Putting me first was just the excuse my father used to save himself admitting the real reason he'd taken Owen from me," Tristan said bitterly, finally finding the strength to say Owen's name. Maybe it was the anger.

"Oh, and what reason was that?"

"To save the family from scandal, not me. Couldn't have the Cousland name be tarnished because his younger son liked to sleep with men," he said. "He didn't care how I felt about him, all he saw was a scandal. He put the nobility above my happiness!" and Aldous sighed, he was getting too old for this, still, he had a soft spot for the young man and hated to see him in such distress.

"I understand that. While I agree he could've handled the situation better, at the time it was not my place to judge how the Teyrn handled family affairs."

"And now?" Tristan wondered, intrigued by Aldous's turn of phrase.

"Now, I can see the harm it has done to you, how you resent him and your entire family for it. You act without a care for your family's reputation as a way of punishing them and making them see what they've done to you," he said and Tristan sniggered under his breath. The old man had always been hard to fool. "But deep down you are a good man who cares deeply about a lot of things. You've been hurting for a long time, but I think you need to find it in your heart to forgive your family and yourself, so you can perhaps find some peace," Aldous said, patting Tristan on the shoulder before leaving.

Tristan pondered on what he'd said as he shot some more arrows. Maybe one day he could learn to forgive his family, but he doubted he'd ever be able to forgive himself.

* * *

After Tristan returned to his room to drop off his bow and arrows, one of the guards approached him. He looked in a hurry and was relieved when he found him.

"My lord, your father wishes to speak with you in the main hall. It's an urgent matter," he informed him. 

Tristan sighed and followed the guard down to the hall at the front of the castle. He wondered what could be so urgent at this current time? Perhaps he wants to talk about his 'behaviour' again.

When he entered he found his father there, along with Fergus and his mother. The absence of Oriana and Oren told him that perhaps, this was not for the ears of a child.

"Ah, there you are," Bryce said. "We thought you'd run off again," he said, but with more concern than jest. Tristan ignored this.

"What's so urgent?" he asked. His father nodded and got straight to the point.

"I've just received this letter from King Cailan concerning the darkspawn amassing in the south. He intends to face them at Ostagar near the Korcari Wilds," Bryce said, sitting in the throne-like chair behind him.

"Is this a blight?" Eleanor wondered. "I'd heard rumours..."

"I am unsure, there has been no appearance of an archdemon but the horde appears strong in number. With the Grey Wardens at his side, the king does not seem concerned but he wishes to deal with them as quickly as possible. He has requested house Cousland's aid," he said.

Like his mother, Tristan had also heard rumours of the darkspawn in the south. Brothels were notorious for being hubs of gossip. The blighted creatures have existed for centuries in Thedas and the Chantry story is known to all. The seven Tevinter mages breached the fade physically and tried to enter the Golden City – the realm of the Maker. The city became tainted and the magisters were cast out as darkspawn, beginning the first blight. The Grey Wardens are a group of specialised warriors whose sole aim is to combat the blights, though Tristan doesn't understand why they are so special. Aldous once told him they were a secretive order.

"Fergus, you and I will ride to Ostagar with my men in a few days time. I will leave a token force here to ensure adequate enforcement in the region," he said and Fergus nodded. "I will also contact Arl Howe in Amaranthine and have him bring his forces here so we may travel together," Bryce continued.

"I'll inform the men father," Fergus said before leaving the room. Tristan happened to take note of the fact that his father said nothing about him coming along.

"You'll have to leave soon then?" Eleanor said.

"I'm afraid so my love. It will take time to travel down south to Ostagar and this is an urgent matter."

"What about me?" Tristan said. Bryce and Eleanor looked towards him.

"You will remain here with your mother and Oren and Oriana. If all goes well, we shall return within a couple of weeks," Bryce said. Tristan scoffed but didn't push the matter.

"If all goes well?" Eleanor said and Tristan noticed the overwhelming look of concern on his mother's face.

"I know this is hard my dear. Darkspawn are ferocious creatures, but the king's confidence seems unwavering. We will have to see what happens," he said and Tristan admired his father's optimism. "Anyway, that will be all. I have some work to do to make sure all is sorted before our departure," he said and Tristan left the room with his mother following.

Before they departed she said, "Where were you this morning Tristan? You're not usually up so early."

"I couldn't sleep. I went out to shoot some arrows. Needed to blow off some steam," he said. His mother looked at him with concern before smiling softly at him.

Seeing that his mother wanted nothing else from him, he returned to his room and his loyal dog, who was playing with Oren in the foyer outside. Oriana was there, watching and when she saw him approach, she rushed over to him, speaking in a quiet voice.

"Tristan, is it true? This news about the darkspawn in the south?" she said.

"It seems so Oriana. Father and Fergus will answer the king's call and take most of Highever's men with them. They are to leave in a few days apparently," he told her.

"Maker, I hope this doesn't mean another blight," she said, staring at a happy looking Oren chasing Master.

"Apparently there's no indication this is a blight at the moment. The king just wants to deal with this as soon as possible it seems," Tristan said.

"You're not going with them?" Oriana asked turning back to him.

"It doesn't seem so," Tristan said, keeping his thoughts on the subject to himself. Though, he's already come up with several possible reasons his father's keeping him from joining the battle. 

It's nothing to do with his fighting still - that's something that can't be disputed. No, he figures there has to be something else behind it.

* * *

3 years ago

Castle Cousland...

Tristan sat in the dining hall that evening surrounded by his parents' many noble guests. By order of his mother, Nan had prepared a feast for the ages (or so she said). He hadn't intended to stay this long, but so many Bann's kept asking him if he'd be interested in meeting their daughters (sometimes more than one). He'd thanked them but simply refused, saying he wasn't interested in marriage at this time. He doubted his mother would approve. When he finally managed to fend off the last remaining nobles, he made his way towards his parents.

"Mother, Father, I think I may retire early," he said.

"Are you sure? We haven't even brought out dessert yet," his mother protested. Maker forbid he should miss dessert.

"I'm afraid so mother. I'm not feeling too well," he lied. It was the easiest excuse.

"I see, well I hope it's nothing serious. Rest well my son," she said. Tristan nodded to them both before his father waved him away. He could not have left that room fast enough. 

* * *

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Tristan made his way outside to the Blacksmiths. Since his family would be entertaining well into the early hours of the morning, Tristan saw it as the perfect opportunity to bring Owen up to his room. They'd finally be able to make love in a proper bed instead of a wooden floor. When he got down to the Blacksmith's, Owen was already waiting outside for him. Tristan went over and they embraced before kissing.

"Are you sure about this?" Owen said.

"Yes, I told my parents I wasn't feeling well and left. They'll be in the dining hall for hours yet," he said, kissing Owen on the cheek and grabbing his hand.

They used the servant's entrance, being careful to dodge any that appeared. Luckily this party is keeping them busy too. Servants do love to talk. They continued on their way, quietly making their way through the atrium and towards the bedrooms. Noticing a guard walking towards them, Tristan quickly pushed Owen into one of the guest rooms. They waited there until the guard had walked past, giving them a clear path up to Tristan's room. When they got into his room, Tristan's Mabari, Master, rose at the disturbance, barking at Owen.

"Ssh Master, it's ok," Tristan said going over to the dog to calm him. "Quiet," he said, stroking the dog. When Master calmed down Tristan led him outside. "Outside," he said and Master reluctantly settled on the floor.

Tristan returned to Owen, but in his haste didn't realise he'd left the door slightly ajar. He grabbed Owen and the two began to kiss, eagerly stripping each other of their clothes. Falling naked onto the bed, Owen sighed with comfort.

"This is so much better than my bed in the servants quarters," he said, gasping.

"I bet you're glad I brought you here tonight," Tristan said as Owen rolled him over to be on top. 

Tristan grabbed his ass as Owen planted kisses on his neck.

They'd been together for a while now, relishing in each other's company, glad to finally be in the comfort of a more soothing environment. Tristan lay on top now, thrusting into Owen slowly, but hard. Due to Owen's moans, he barely heard the door to his room opening. It was only when Owen slapped him on the back several times did he realise something was wrong.

"Tristan!" he said, looking at someone behind him. Tristan turned his head to see his father standing there and he immediately froze.

The Teyrn had a face like thunder, mixed with what looked like confusion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will Continue on in the past story before going back to the present.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Tristan sat in the dining room, listening to the crackle of the fireplace. He felt like they'd been there for an eternity; him and his parents. His father stood away from him, facing the fireplace. He hadn't spoken a word to him since he'd walked in on him and Owen. His mother, still dressed in her most lavish dress, sat at the table opposite him, looking like she barely recognised the young man sitting opposite her. All the guests had been sent home and the servants ordered away to their quarters with strict instructions not to disturb them.

"How long has this been going on?" Bryce questioned, nonchalant.

"You can't even look at me can you?" Tristan said, ignoring the question. His father said nothing. "Do I shame you that much?" he said again, feeling unable to keep his emotions together. His whole world was about to implode and his father couldn't even look at him.

"How long has this been going on?" Bryce asked again, confirming Tristan's suspicions with his refusal to answer the previous question.

"Nearly a year," Tristan said and his father scoffed. "Where's Owen? I want to see him," he said, thinking his father owed him that 

When his father had found them, he'd been unable to do or say anything. He'd simply froze, his worst nightmare come true. He'd ordered Owen to leave, sending a guard with him.

"He's under guard in his room in the servants quarters," he said. "You will see him when I say you can see him," and Tristan noticed what seemed like anger in his tone. He'd very rarely seen his father angry.

"Does anyone know about your relationship with this man?"

"No, no one. We were always discreet if you didn't realise that already," Tristan said spitefully.

"How could you keep something like this from us?" his mother said, finally speaking.

"Why'd you think? Because I knew exactly this would happen. You'd never let me openly see another man, let alone a lowly craftsman!" he said. "I evidently will never be the son you want me to be," he said and his mother covered her mouth.

"For your sake, I can't let this continue," his father said, just slightly turning his head now.

"No, no I won't let you take him from me! I love him!" he said, standing up from his chair. His mother let out a sob and ran from the room. Tristan watched her leave stifling a sob of his own.

"Son, this cannot continue!" Bryce said, facing him now. "I will relieve him of his post and have him on the next ship back to the Free Marches tomorrow," he said.

"No, father please don't do this," Tristan said, begging now.

"This is for your own good Tristan, one day you will see that," he said, looking him at him now with what looked like genuine sadness.

"No, I won't let you do this!" Tristan said, but the Teyrn turned away, calling in two guards from outside.

"Escort my son back to his room and see that he stays there," he ordered and the guards nodded before approaching Tristan and grabbing him by the arms. He tried to shake them off but to no avail.

As the guards led him outside Tristan said, "You can't do this father, you can't!" but his father had turned his back to him once more. 

On the way out they passed his brother Fergus who, while not invited to the conversation, had stayed outside to listen nonetheless. Fergus said nothing as they passed, but he wore a similar expression to their mother – absolutely no recognition or understanding.

* * *

Present...

Tristan walked the halls of the castle looking for his father. Master had inevitably decided to tag along as well. This business with the darkspawn had him worried, especially since his father and Fergus were going off to battle and leaving him behind. If they both died the title of Teyrn would pass to him. He shuddered at the thought. He finally found his father in the study, reading over a letter and pacing the room. He looked up when he noticed Tristan approach.

"Can I help you son?" he said, still engrossed in his letter.

"Why are you leaving me here while you and Fergus go to Ostagar?" he asked. Bryce sighed and dropped the hand holding the letter. He'd been expecting this conversation.

"I simply feel you would be better off remaining here with your mother and sister-in-law," he said.

"But I'm just as good a fighter as you or Fergus- you helped train me. Surely my talents would be best served fighting the darkspawn," he said and Master seemed to bark in agreement.

"Tristan, I've made my decision. It has nothing to do with your fighting skill," he said, sighing again.

"No, it's something else entirely isn't it?" he wondered, folding his arms. "Am I too much of an embarrassment to have around the king?"

"Tristan, no. Where is this coming from?"

"I just want to know why you're not letting me join the battle," Tristan said and Master barked twice. Bryce became exasperated and brought his hands to his hips.

"Fine. I wasn't going to speak to you about this until I'd discussed it with your mother, but since you've ambushed me here I have no choice," he said. Tristan frowned slightly. "While your brother and I are away, I was going to leave you in charge of the castle and region," he said. Tristan started laughing.

"Yeah," he snorted. "Right," he said, but his father looked deadly serious. "You're serious?"

"I am. I think the responsibility will do you good," Bryce said confidently, a warm smile on his face.

"You really trust me enough?" Tristan said, unsure how to feel about this.

"I do, despite how you are at times. I also don't wish to see both my children into battle," Bryce said. "The outcome may not be as certain as the king thinks. If I should die, or indeed your brother should, I would be content leaving the Teyrnir to you," he said.

The thought still made Tristan shudder. The thought of his father dying was also something he didn't like to think about. He was a strong warrior known for his own feats during the Orlesian occupation. He always seemed invincible to him. Clearly that's not the case anymore. He's not as young as he once was.

"Now don't speak a word of this to your mother until I have discussed it with her," he said.

"Fine," he said. But before leaving he asked him something. "Father, I need to know something," he said. Bryce looked at him expectantly. "Was sending Owen away three years ago really for my benefit?" His father looked surprised that he'd asked this. 

After Owen was packed off back to the Free Marches, his parents tried to instil a sense of normality again. It was like nothing had ever happened. Owen's name wasn't spoken by anyone.

"Yes, It was. I told you that," Bryce said, but he'd averted his eyes.

"Ok," Tristan said, nodding. He didn't wholeheartedly believe it. He then left with Master in tow.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting exactly. Maybe he'd just wanted him to take away the guilt he felt. Maybe he truly wanted to blame his parents for the loss of his first love.

* * *

3 years ago

Castle Cousland...

"I want to see him!" Tristan said, standing before his father in the main hall. "You're the one taking him from me, so the least you can do is give me a chance to say goodbye," he said, almost berating himself for sobbing like this in front of his father. 

Bryce turned to one of the guards beside him and nodded. The guard slammed his chest and left the room.

"Fine, you may see him before he goes. I believe he is packing the last of his things down in the servants quarters," he said.

Tristan left immediately. He would have seen him without his father's permission anyway. When he arrived in the servants quarters, he found a guard watching as Owen gathered up his things into a leather bag. Pain shot through his heart and he wondered if he'd be able to do this. As he approached, the guard stepped aside, having been told Tristan was coming.

"Owen," he said and the man turned to face him. They immediately embraced, hardly willing to let each other go.

"Your father's sending me back to the Free Marches," he said.

"I know, I'm so sorry. None of this would've happened if I hadn't convinced you to come up to my room," he said, bowing his head.

"You didn't force me though. I wanted it as much as you did," he said. After a few seconds of silence, he said, "Your father's paid me a full months wages in gratitude for my service. That's something I guess-"

"Let's go," Tristan said quickly, cutting him off.

"What, go where?" Owen said.

"Anywhere. Let's just run away like I wanted," he said. "I can take the guard and we can leave without anyone being none the wiser," he said grabbing both of Owen's hands.

"Tristan," he said, looking down at the floor. He smiled but it was a sad smile. "I love you so much," he said. "But we knew something like this would happen, we talked about it. I want to be with you more than anything, but we can't change who we are."

"No, don't say that," Tristan said, shaking his head and backing away.

"You are noble and I'm just a craftsman. We're just not meant to be in a world like this," he said, Tristan noticing his struggle.

"Don't give up Owen. You can't leave without a fight," he said.

"Fighting's always been more your thing, Tristan. But there are some fights you just can't win," and he stepped forward, kissing Tristan tenderly.

"Alright, It's time to go," said the guard, interrupting them. Owen broke the kiss and Tristan grabbed his hand, begging him not to go.

"You know I'll always love you Tristan," he said as his hand slowly drifted away from Tristan's grasp. The other man seemed to lose all strength.

Owen took one last glance at him before he left, a tear falling down his cheek. Tristan watched the man he loved disappear from his life, unable to do anything but watch.

* * *

Present...

Tristan collided with Oren as he left the study via the library. Oriana was following closely behind as usual.

"Whoa, Oren, watch where you're going," Tristan said.

"Sorry uncle," Oren said.

"He has his session with Brother Aldous," Oriana said.

"Ah, I see. Well don't run poor Aldous ragged with all your questions," he advised, smiling.

"I heard that young man," spoke Aldous behind him. "I'm not dead yet," he said and Tristan laughed.

He nodded at his sister-in-law, then left them to it. With Master still following behind, Tristan intended to make his way to the training grounds for some more practice, but he overheard raised voices. Realising they were coming from the direction of the kitchen, he continued down the hallway to spot two guards berating one of the servants. That servant happened to be Solan.

"Seriously, this is all that woman could cook for us?" one of the men asked.

"I wouldn't feed this to those damned war dogs," the other said. "Fetch us something else."

"I can't just give you food whenever you want it," Solan replied.

"Listen here you stupid elf, you'll get us some proper food or I'll cut your damned knife-"

"You may want to stop there," Tristan said walking towards them. The guards turned at his appearance, startled.

"My Lord, we were just-"

"I know what you were doing. Is there something that makes you think you can treat servants like that?" he said. Solan looked at him, not appearing entirely thankful.

"No my lord," he said.

"I didn't think so. You get the food you're given. It is not the servants' job to feed you what you aren't given, nor do they have a say in what you are given. That job lies with my mother if you'd like to take it up with her," he said gleefully, folding his arms. 

The two guards faces turned white and they needed no further scolding.

"No need my lord," one said.

"We'll be on our way now," the other said and they scurried off, their armour clanking.

"If they bother you again-"

"I don't need you to defend me like that," Solan said, looking angry. "I can deal with arrogant guards," he huffed turning back into the kitchen.

A confused Tristan said, "I know, I never said you couldn't. I just wanted to help."

"Well, I don't want your help. Did you think I would gladly jump into your bed again if you stood up for me?"

"No that's not why I-" but Solan had already slammed the kitchen door in his face. "Maker, I can't seem to do anything right can I?" he said, looking down at Master. The dog whined in response, tilting his head.

 


	5. Chapter 5

That evening, Tristan fully intended to immerse himself in the comfort of his bed. The day had been exhausting and frankly, he was over it.  

You can imagine his surprise when someone decided to join him. Someone who just a few hours ago, slammed a door in his face as a figurative 'fuck off'. He'd already freed himself from his tighter clothing when the creek of his door caused him to turn around. Solan stood there, looking as unsure as the first night he'd come into Tristan's room. He avoided looking directly at him, while Tristan tried hard not to form a grin.

"I thought you wanted nothing to do with me anymore?" Tristan said.

"I don't. Don't think this changes anything," Solan said, still refusing to look at him.

"Why are you here then?"

"Did you really just want to help with those guards earlier?" he said, looking at him now.

"I did. Solan, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. It really had nothing to do with you being an elf. I'm an ass sometimes, but I don't see you as a pet. I would never-" but Tristan found himself cut off as Solan planted a kiss on him. 

"Apology accepted. Now shut up and fuck me," and nothing more needed to be said. 

However, he intended to treat Solan a lot more gently than he had before. He felt he owed him that much.

It was by no means a quick affair, which added to Tristan's overall exhaustion by the time they were done. Solan lay on top of him, with Tristan's hands resting on his hips.  He looked up at him, resting his head on his hands.   
  
"Don't take this the wrong way, but that was probably the best sex we've had so far," he said. Tristan chuckled.  
  
"Good, I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said.   
  
Solan lifted himself up, moving back onto Tristan's cock.   
  
"We could go again," he teased.   
  
"I'd love to, but I'm exhausted," he said. Solan smiled kindly before bending down to kiss him.

"Ok," he said, before climbing off Tristan and settling down beside him. He rolled over, resting an arm across Tristan's chest. Tristan kissed him lightly on the head before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

  
A few days later, Tristan woke to the sound of someone banging on his door. Solan was still asleep in his arms after another night spent together, and he began to stir too.

"My Lord!" someone said, this time opening the door and barging into the room. "My Lord your father-" but the guard stopped when he saw the two men in bed together. He turned around immediately. "My apologies my Lord," he said.

"That's ok, what is it?" Tristan said, sitting up. Solan had opened his eyes now and the moment he saw the guard he grabbed the sheet, pulling it over him more - never mind that the guard was facing away.

"My Lord your father has asked that you meet him in the main hall," he said.

"Ok," Tristan groaned, wondering what his father could want with him so early. Then again, looking out the window he realised maybe it wasn't so early. 

The guard slammed his chest, still facing away, before walking out of the room.   
  
"Shit!" Solan said, nearly falling out the bed. "Nan's probably on the warpath. I can't believe I overslept," he said, pulling on his clothes as fast as he could.

"No? Maybe being with me helps you relax more," Tristan said, getting out of bed to dress as well. "You find me comforting."

"I can't deny I feel safe when I sleep next to you, but none of that will matter if Nan decides to roast me on a spit for being several hours late," he said, completely dressed now.

He went to leave, but Tristan grabbed his hand before he did.

"You don't get to leave without saying goodbye," he said, tilting Solan's face up to kiss him. "See you again tonight?"

"That depends if Nan hasn't murdered me by then," he said. Tristan laughed and let him leave.

After making himself look presentable to his father, he staggered down to the main hall. He couldn't help but notice how busy everyone seemed to be. He knew his father planned to set out for Ostagar today, so perhaps that was it. Also, where the hell was his dog? He hoped he wasn't bothering Nan, otherwise Solan wouldn't be the only one roasting on a spit.

He knocked on the door to the main hall before he entered, making sure to tuck in his shirt. The door was opened by one of the guards and Tristan found his father in the room, accompanied by another man.

"Ah Tristan," Bryce said, turning towards him.

"Sorry I'm late father I was indisposed," he said, forming his usual grin.

"Yes, I heard," he said quietly. "But no matter," he said and he turned to the man standing just behind him. "Howe, you remember my younger son, Tristan?" he said.

Tristan turned towards Howe. He'd only met the man a few times and didn't really care much for him (same could be said for many of his parents' noble friends). He did recall him trying to set him up with his daughter though. 

His father had fought with him during the Orlesian occupation - a fact they seemed to bring up a lot. 

Howe, an ageing man, dressed in formal clothes, was accompanied by two Amaranthine soldiers. He formed a crooked smile to match his crooked nose.

"Yes. He looks more grown every time I see him," he nodded. Tristan, who was not even close to thirty, wondered what he meant by that. "Pleased to see you again lad."

"You too Arl Howe," he nodded. "Has your family accompanied you?"

"Oh no. I left them safe in Amaranthine, well away from the fighting in the south. Though my daughter Delilah asked after you. I may bring her next time I am in Highever after this business with the darkspawn is dealt with," he said.

Tristan sighed internally. Here we go again, he thought.

"Tell Delilah I'm flattered but your sons are probably more my type," he said, feeling no obligation to hold this fact back.

"I see," Howe said, frowning. "I thought you'd tamed your son's wild behaviour?"

"What can I say?" Bryce chuckled nervously. "My fierce boy has his own mind these days," he said.

"It seems so," Howe snarled. 

For some reason, Tristan couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable in the Arl's presence. There was something a bit off about him.

Eager to change the subject, Bryce said, "So are you confident your men will start arriving tonight?"

"Yes, my lordship, my apologies again for the delay. Bad weather you see."

"No matter my friend. I will send Fergus on ahead with my men and ride with you and yours tomorrow," he said, turning to Tristan now. "I also summoned you here to tell you that I have spoken to your mother about leaving you in charge while your brother and I are away."

"I take it, it wasn't an easy task?"

"You know your mother. It did take some convincing, but she has agreed," he sighed.

"What convinced her?" Tristan wondered, folding his arms.

"Well, she was already apprehensive about your brother and I going to battle. The fact that you're not made it easier."

"Eleanor has always been stubborn when it comes to her family," Howe commented, sniggering. Tristan frowned at the remark.

"I know you will do me proud son," Bryce said, genuinely smiling. Tristan didn't know how to deal with this sudden responsibility, in fact, it was making him feel physically ill just thinking about it. But for his father's sake, he smiled and nodded.

"I will try father," he said.

"Good. Now there is someone else you should meet," Bryce said, turning to the guard behind him. "Please show Duncan in," and the guard slammed his chest before leaving the room.

"Who's that?" Tristan asked.

"You will find out. I would've had him meet you earlier, but you were...indisposed," Bryce echoed.

The guard soon returned, accompanied by a fierce looking, tanned man with black hair and a long beard. He was dressed in armour with a long sword and dagger attached at his back.

"It is an honour to be a guest within your hall Teyrn Cousland," he said bowing his head. "It has been a long time since I've graced the fields of my homeland."

"Please, the honour is all mine."

"Your lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present," Howe said, looking offended. 

Tristan's eyes widened. This man was a Grey Warden? What was he doing here? And how did Howe know who he was?

"Duncan arrived this morning, unannounced. Is there a problem?"

"No, of course not but such a guest leaves me at a disadvantage," Howe said.

"That is true, forgive me my friend. However, we rarely see one in person. Tristan, Brother Aldous taught you about the Grey Wardens did he not?" Bryce said. 

"He might've mentioned them," Tristan nodded. "They're the order dedicated to defeating the darkspawn."

"Yes, though not permanently as of yet," Duncan said, looking troubled by this. 

"Without their warning of the darkspawn rising in the south, half the nation could've been overrun before the king had a chance to react," Bryce said and Tristan thought he detected a hint of admiration in his father's voice. "Duncan here is looking for recruits before joining the army and his fellow wardens in the south. I believe you have eyes on Ser Gilmore?" Bryce said, turning to Duncan.

"Yes, though if I may be so bold, your son would also make an excellent candidate," Duncan said and Tristan choked on his own laugh, surprising Duncan. "His skills are quite famous amongst the nobility."

"I'm sorry, me?"

"That is out of the question! This is my son!" Bryce said, standing in front of Tristan. The mood in the room suddenly turned sour, though Arl Howe looked vaguely amused. "As you well know, I only have two children. I am in no hurry to see them both off to battle. Unless you intend to invoke the right of conscription?"

"No need to worry Father, I have no interest in joining the Grey Wardens," Tristan said, clearing his throat.

He knew the wardens didn't discriminate when it came to who they recruited. The king would probably join if he could. However, being tied down to an order such as that held no interest for him. Being tied to the nobility was already enough. Though he vaguely recalled Aldous mentioning something about 'conscription'.

Duncan glanced between the Teyrn and his son before shaking his head.

"Have no fear. While someone of your son's talents would be an asset to the order, I have no intention of forcing the issue," he said. 

Bryce seemed satisfied with his answer and turned back towards Tristan. Tristan admired the man for holding his own against his father.

"Son, ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone. Now, could you find your brother and tell him he is to lead the troops to Ostagar without me."

"You can't get one of the guards to do that?" Tristan complained.

"Just do as I've asked son," he said and Tristan sighed. "We need to discuss the battle plans in the south." 

 "Oh I see, the grownups are talking," Tristan replied.

"Tristan!" Bryce said, obviously in no mood to mess around after that tense moment. 

"Alright, I'm going," he said leaving the main hall without so much as a glance at the other two men in the room.

* * *

  
When he left, he found himself feeling a bit uneasy again. While he'd laughed the thought off when Duncan had mentioned his suitability as a recruit, he couldn't help but feel a bit pensive about the idea now. As he walked along the corridor, he found himself too distracted to even notice a frantic Ser Gilmore approaching him.  

"Oh my lord, there you are," he said, stepping back. "Your mother said the Teyrn had summoned you. I thought it best not to interrupt."

"Can't talk Gilmore, my father's asked me to deliver a message to Fergus," Tristan said, not paying the man much attention.

 "I apologise my lord but it appears your hound has gotten into the kitchen's again," he said. Tristan groaned. "Nan is threatening to leave."

"Can't you deal with it Gilmore, surely you don't need me!" he said, frowning. Realising that had come out harsher than he'd intended, Tristan said "Sorry."

"That's ok my lord. But these Mabari hounds, you know they listen only to their master. Anyone else risks getting their arm bitten off," Gilmore said, looking mildly afraid.

"Ah, my dog has no master. Why'd you think I called him that? He is his own master Gilmore."

"I'm afraid your mother insists my lord," he said and Tristan groaned again. His mother would be worse than a Mabari hound if he didn't do this. "The dog is still loyal to you. I believe he will listen," Gilmore smirked, crossing his arms. "You're lucky to have your own Mabari war hound you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Tristan dismissed as the two men made their way to the kitchens, albeit reluctantly on Tristan's part.

"My lord, may I beg a question?" Gilmore asked. "Is it true that a Grey Warden is here?" and it was obvious to Tristan the man seemed quite excited.

"Yes, Duncan I believe his name was," Tristan said. "Apparently he's looking to recruit you," and a look of pure amazement crossed his face. Tristan conveniently left out the part where he'd suggested him as well.

"So it's true? Can you imagine it, me, a Grey Warden!" he said. Tristan looked at him, stunned. He had no idea the man was so eager. But then again at least he _was_  eager. Noticing Tristan's expression, Gilmore calmed. "Of course I shouldn't get ahead of myself," he said, coughing to clear his throat.

When they arrived at the kitchens Nan seemed to be berating Solan and female elf. The sight of Solan seemed to momentarily drag him out of his sudden mood. The elf seemed glad to see him too – if only to save him from Nan.

"Get that bloody mutt out of the larder, before I double your duties!"

"But mistress it won't let us near," said the female elf.

"Not to fear Nan," Tristan said, though when the woman turned around she looked less than happy to see him.

"You! How many times do I have to tell you to keep that bloody mongrel out of my kitchen!" she said. "If I had my way I would put the beast down."

"No need to go that far," Tristan said.

"Please calm down good woman," Gilmore said, forever the peacemaker.

"Just get your damn dog before I inform the Teyrna of my impending departure," Nan huffed. 

Tristan didn't need to be told twice. There were only two women in this world that could put the fear of the Maker into him and one of them was standing before him.

"We don't know what he's doing in there, but he keeps barking," Solan said as he and the other elf moved out the way. Tristan nodded at him before opening the door to the larder.

What they were greeted with was nothing short of amusing. Yes, the larder was a complete and utter mess, but in the middle stood Master, panting excitedly with several dead giant rats around him and one in his mouth. He dropped it and barked excitedly.

"Maker! What are those?" shrieked the female elf.

"Well it seems he wasn't raiding your larder at all Nan," Tristan said. Master barked.

"He must've heard them and chased them in here through their holes," Gilmore said to Nan, scratching the back of his head.

"It seems he was doing you a favour," Tristan said.

"Favour my ass. Look at the mess in here. I'll need to check nothing's been contaminated," she huffed and Master whined. "You two, get to work cleaning this up."

Solan and the female elf hurried away to get the cleaning instruments.

"Well, now this has been dealt with, I will take my leave," Gilmore said, hurrying away. Tristan sighed. No doubt wanted to find and talk to Duncan.

Tristan stroked Master's head before ordering him out of the larder.

"I'll be going too Nan," he said, scurrying out the kitchen along with Master. Nan sighed as they left, unhappy at the mess, but secretly grateful for the killing of the rats.

* * *

Resuming the search for his brother with his dog in tow, Tristan realised he was probably in his room spending some final moments with his wife and son. He made his way through the atrium, rounding the corner to find his mother standing there, talking to a group of people. As he got closer he recognised who they were. More nobles. 

"Ah if it isn't my younger son," she said, noticing Master standing behind him. "You took care of the kitchen situation?"

"Yes mother, nan is not quitting her job," he replied. 

"Good, now, Tristan you remember Lady Landra, Bann Loren's wife?" she said, gesturing to the woman standing beside her. 

Tristan studied her and suddenly recalled an evening a few months ago where a rather rowdy woman had had too much to drink and caused quite a scene. He also seemed to remember the woman flirting with him as well. 

"We met at your mother's spring salon did we not?" she wondered, pressing a finger to her chin. 

"Weren't you drunk?" Tristan said. 

"Tristan!" his mother scolded. Landra laughed. 

"Oh it's quite alright Eleanor, the boy speaks the truth. Either way, it's nice to see you young man. You remember my son Dairren? I believe you two sparred in the last tourney?" she said, gesturing to the ginger haired man beside her. 

Tristan smiled. They'd done a lot more than spar that day. Of course neither of their parents knew about that. Dairren seemed to remember the event too, grinning at the memory. 

"You beat me fair and square my lord. It's good to see you," he said. 

"Don't sell yourself short Dairren, you weren't that bad," he said, shaking his hand. 

"Well, I think I shall rest for a while Eleanor. I shall see you at supper Dairren. Iona, come," Landra said, gesturing to her elven lady in waiting. 

"See you then mother. I think I shall retire to the study for now," Dairren said, his eyes lingering on Tristan as he left. 

Soon it was just him and his mother standing there. 

"Was there something going on there Tristan?" Eleanor wondered. She'd noticed the weird exchange between the two men. 

"I don't know what you're talking about mother," Tristan denied. 

"Are you looking for Fergus?" she asked, not pressing him about Dairren. "I think he's in his room with Oren and Oriana," she said. 

"Thank you mother," Tristan said, nodding. He was just about to leave when his mother called him back. She looked slightly troubled. 

"Tristan?"

"Yes?"

"Did you meet with this Grey Warden?" she asked. 

"Yes, why?" 

"He didn't try to recruit you did he?" and Tristan stared at her, wondering why she was asking this. Had she expected Duncan to put forward the idea? Had she been worried he would?

"He mentioned something about it, but father put his foot down. I wasn't interested anyway mother," he said. 

She seemed to relax then, her troubled look replaced with a small smile. 

"Good I'm glad to hear it," she said. 

She stepped forward and placed her hands on his shoulders, rubbing them. She looked him up and down before pulling him into an embrace. He placed his arms around her, unsure of what was happening. 

"Mother, is everything ok?" he said. 

"Yes, yes I'm fine," she said, pulling away. "I do love you Tristan, you do know that don't you? You may drive me up the wall something but - "

"Mother, what's brought this on?" he wondered, feeling increasingly uneasy. He hadn't quite been able to shake the feeling since meeting with Howe. 

"Nothing, it's just your father and brother are going off to fight maker-knows-what. The thought of loosing them is tearing me apart. I know a lot's happened with you over the past few years but I didn't want you to forget how much I love you," she said, cupping his cheek with her hand.

"I love you too mother, I do," he said, meaning every word. 

She kissed him on the cheek and patted his shaggy hair. She used to do it all the time when he was a boy. It was the first time she'd done it in a long while. 

"Ok, well, I better let you go," she said, stepping away and dabbing at her eyes. "Oh, after your father leaves tomorrow I'm going to be joining Lady Landra at her estate for a while. Your father's idea." She chuckled. "He doesn't want my presence undermining your authority at the castle. It'll only be for a few days mind you."

"Are you sure mother?" 

"Yes, I'll be fine, now go," she said, hurrying him along. 

Tristan walked away, glancing back at her with a soft smile. He'd never seen his mother act in such a way. She would show affection, of course, but this was strange for her. The entire encounter made him feel concerned for her. He hoped his father and Fergus would return from this battle alive. 


End file.
